


all my bitches love me

by hapakitsune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Boston Bruins, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The excellent adventures of Dougie Hamilton in his first year of university, involving (amongst other things) a bonsai tree, quite a few plastic cups, and a pair of stripper pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all my bitches love me

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of separate scenes in my head that I kind of combined into a terrible, terrible frat au because, well, the Bruins basically are a frat. Title is from Teach Me How to Dougie for what I hope are obvious reasons.

"This," Dougie mutters as he clings to the drainpipe on top of the Habs house, "is not how I pictured my freshman year going."

Segs pokes his head over the edge of the roof and frowns. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing," Dougie says. "Mind giving me a hand?" 

"Oops, sorry." Tyler pulls him up enough that Dougie can clamber onto the roof himself. Marchy is crouched down by the roof hatch, looking like a cliché of a burglar in black clothes and a ski mask. The only thing that ruins the image is the bag of plastic cups.

"So they're all downstairs, right?" Marchy asks Dougie. "They should be distracted."

"Malcolm did a headcount, it matched up with their numbers. Unless someone else is sitting in on their meetings, we should be good." Dougie goes to his knees next to Marchy. "So what are we doing?"

" _We_ 're doing nothing. You're keeping watch while Segsy and I get down to business." Marchy rubs his hands together gleefully. "This is going to be amazing."

He and Tyler high-five. Dougie sighs, but helps Marchy open up the hatch anyway. Once they're down inside, he passes them the plastic bag of cups and hisses, "Good luck!"

Dougie closes the hatch after they leave and sits cross-legged next to it while he plays with his phone. He has some missed messages from his brother, all of them thinly veiled inquiries as to what, exactly, Dougie is doing with the Bruins. The last one just reads, _Dont let the Habs catch you_ , which Dougie has to admit is good advice. 

He's been waiting for about fifteen minutes when there's a tap on the other side of the hatch. Dougie opens it, gives Tyler a hand up, and then backs up as Marchy hoists himself up. "Good?"

" _Brilliant_ ," Marchy says. "I wish Bergy had let us superglue their doors."

Dougie, who had not been privy to the prank-planning meeting, says, "Well, we'd probably get in trouble for property damage."

"Ugh, no wonder he likes you," says Tyler. "Okay, now we need to climb down. Dougie, do you have the fire escape ladder?"

 

Dougie doesn't hear anything more about the prank until a few days later when Gally grabs him in the quad and hisses, "So much water, Hamilton."

"Um," says Dougie, blinking down at him. "What?"

"Don't pretend like you weren't involved," says Brendan from behind Gally. He crosses his arms, scowling. "We know."

"Know what?" Dougie says, thinking it's best probably to play dumb until he can figure out what exactly they mean. 

"Three nights ago," Brendan says darkly, "someone snuck into the Habs house and _filled our hallway_ with cups filled with water."

"Oh," Dougie says, privately thinking that he really should have figured that out from the cups Tyler and Marchy had brought. "What makes you think it was us?"

Gally and Brendan exchange looks. Then Gally pulls out a cup, where someone, probably Tyler, had very badly drawn the Bruins symbol. "This is why."

"Well," Dougie says, trying to back away, "it doesn't mean _I_ was involved."

"Please," Brendan says, narrowing his eyes. 

"I'm going to be late for class." Dougie hitches up his backpack and nearly falls down the step behind him. "I, err. Good luck?"

"Expect revenge!" Brendan yells after him. "Gally is from Communist Russia! He knows things!"

"I'm from Belarus," protests Gally, and Dougie uses the distraction of their ensuing argument to make a run for it. 

\---

On Dougie's first day of college, his roommate dragged him down to the Greek Life event on the quad. Dougie's brother had pledged a frat, but Dougie never really had much interest in it himself, so he just went to be Malcolm's moral support or whatever. He was just watching the terrifyingly attractive guy manning the Rangers booth from across the quad when someone rested a heavy hand on his shoulder and said, "Having some sexually confusing thoughts about Henrik?"

"Um," said Dougie. "What?"

And that was how Dougie met Brad Marchand. 

"Don't worry," Marchy said, circling around to look at Dougie. "Everyone's been there. Expect to have some weird dreams tonight." He held out his hand. "I'm Marchy."

"Dougie," Dougie said automatically, and he shook Marchy's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Marchy was wearing a bright yellow shirt with a B on it and a pair of incredibly douchey sunglasses, but his smile seemed sincere. "Don't pledge with the Rangers," he added. "They're all classy and shit. If you want to have _real_ fun, you should come to the B's."

"You mean the Bruins?" asked Malcolm, coming up at just that moment. "My brother says they're the worst."

Marchy pushed his sunglasses to the edge of his nose and looked over them at Malcolm. "And who is your brother?"

"PK Subban," Malcolm said, and that, for some reason, made Marchy grin maniacally and throw his arm around Malcolm's shoulder. 

"Oh, lil' Subban –" 

"Malcolm."

"Malolm Subban," Marchy continued without missing a beat, "you _have_ to pledge with the Bruins."

Marchy dragged them over to the Bruins table, where the tallest person Dougie had ever seen in his life was talking earnestly with a group of guys all wearing the same yellow shirt as Marchy. Marchy waved enthusiastically before pushing Malcolm and Dougie ahead of him. 

"Found some potentials, Big Z!" he called. "The tall one is Dougie, the other one is – get this – PK Subban's little brother."

"Really," said the guy known as Big Z, looking thoughtful. "How do you boys feel about rushing?"

 

Five days later, Dougie found himself crouched behind a bale of hay with a paintball gun in his hands and Malcolm breathing heavily next to him. "This was a terrible idea," Dougie said. "Are Rush events supposed to be this terrifying?"

"Probably not, but this is fun." Malcolm turned to peek over the edge. "Looks like Gally and Brendan have taken cover behind the trashcan. You go left, I go right?"

"Ugh, fine," sighed Dougie, and they rolled away from each other to make a break for it. 

Not all of the rush events were like that; some were just parties where you got to know the different frats. Dougie met Malcolm's brother, who was almost aggressively friendly, and made friends with a bunch of the other freshmen and sophomores (including Gally and Brendan) who were rushing. It turned out the Bruins, in addition to being known as the party frat, were really into environmentalism thanks to one of the seniors, and they donated their homegrown vegetables to the local homeless shelter. The Rangers were mostly a business major frat, and the Habs – had something to do with French, Dougie didn't really know. Every time he was in a conversation with one of them for longer than two minutes, Marchy or Tyler or Looch would appear to drag him away.

But all in all, Dougie wasn't really expecting much from the whole experience other than to maybe meet some people, but then he got the pledge invitation, hand-delivered by Marchy and Tyler. 

"This is just an invitation to pledge," Tyler said warningly as Dougie stared at the bright yellow envelope. "You're not officially a member yet, but you seem like a good kid –" Marchy snorted and Tyler glared at him. "So, what do you think?"

"I, err," Dougie said. "Sure?"

"Don't need to sound so enthusiastic," Marchy said, rolling his eyes. "Buck up, Hamilton. It'll be fun, eh?"

"Sure," Dougie said. "So what do I need to do now?"

Tyler and Marchy exchanged identical devious looks. "You," Tyler said, "are going to help us pull a prank on the Habs."

\---

"Um," Dougie says when he enters the Bruins house that night, "the Habs might know we were behind the prank."

Marchy looks up from where he's lying on the floor and squints at him. "What makes you think that?"

"Two of their pledges told me they knew." Dougie crosses his arms. "You drew the Bruins symbol on one of the cups!"

"Oh, that was me," Tyler says. He's lying on the couch with his head pillowed on Andrew's thighs, his phone held up to his face. "There's no point in pranking someone if they don't know who's behind it."

Andrew rolls his eyes. "It didn't involve property damage, did it?"

" _No_ ," Tyler says. "Bergy was very clear on that front. Killjoy," he adds in a mutter.

Andrew swats Tyler's head. "I thought we agreed no prank war this year."

"Please," says Marchy, and Andrew tips his head as if to concede the point. Dougie is about to go off and find a quiet place to do his reading for Irish History and Culture when Marchy adds, "Hamilton, come sit."

Dougie sits down cross-legged next to him, shrugging his backpack off. "I have homework."

"I know, but I wanted to congratulate you." Marchy rolls over onto his stomach and props his chin on his hands. "You have made it to the second round of pledging."

"How many rounds are there?" Dougie asks dubiously.

"I don't think we've actually decided yet," Marchy says. "Tell Malcolm he's in, too. He can keep pretending to be a Habs pledge if he wants, but he's also welcome to throw them out like last night's condoms –"

"Marchy!" Andrew says. 

"– if he doesn't want to keep living a lie." Marchy beams at him. "I'm so proud of you munchkins."

"...Thanks," Dougie says. 

"Aww." March actually sits up to ruffle Dougie's hair. "Now go do your homework, kidlet."

Dougie rolls his eyes, but pulls out his textbook anyway and starts his reading as the rest of the frat slowly trickle in, returning from class or clubs or sports. Malcolm shows up a little after seven and sits on the floor next to Dougie, slightly winded. 

"I think the Habs are onto us," he says. 

"Did Gally and Brendan get you too?" Dougie asks, sliding his textbook to rest between the two of them. 

"Yes," says Malcolm. "Made a run for it. I don't know how they figured me out."

"Well, if it means anything, Marchy said you have a place here." Dougie bumps his shoulder against Malcolm. "So, there's that."

"Good," Malcolm says fervently. "If I have to watch my brother and his 'roommate' give each other googly eyes any more, I think I would have had to disown myself. No one should be that obvious." When Dougie raises his eyebrows at him, Malcolm exclaims, "Carey _lassoed_ him!"

"Kinky," says Marchy from the floor. 

Malcolm makes an exaggerated gagging sound, and Dougie has to bury his face in his hands to stifle his giggles. 

 

The official initiation ceremony is gratifyingly short and simple, which is good, as Dougie had been getting apprehensive after hearing some weird stories from J.T. and Chris about the Rangers ceremony.

"We're too lazy for that," Looch explains. "And Big Z doesn't care. Other frats have some weird ideas about things their pledges should do."

"Just, you know, swear not to betray us and that you'll help Andrew save the world or whatever," Marchy pipes up. 

Patrice, who seems to be in charge of managing the freshman, motions for all of them to shut up. "Dougie, Malcolm," he says, very seriously. "Are you ready?"

They have to recite their motto, list some of the famous past members of the frat, and then Andrew gives them each a bonsai tree to take care for whatever reason before patting them on the back and saying, "Welcome to the Bruins, kids."

At which point Thorty yells, "Keg time!" and someone turns on the music and Big Z just shakes his head before picking a seat in the corner to presumably stay out of the way. 

Dougie carefully deposits his bonsai upstairs in the little library they have before returning downstairs to find Malcolm doing a keg stand. He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen to find something non-alcoholic. He's pulling out a ginger ale when Marchy finds him, says, "Absolutely not," and shoves a plastic cup into his hand. 

"I think this is what they call peer pressure," Dougie says, looking dubiously at the cup. "They warned me about this in school."

"Come on, Hamilton," Marchy says. "We're celebrating!" He grabs Dougie's arm and drags him back into the main room. 

Dougie sips at his drink carefully. It isn't bad, a little sweeter than he likes, and the tang of alcohol clings to his tongue but hey, that's kind of the point. He's about to ask Marchy what's in it when someone pounds on the door. 

"Open up!" someone yells, and everyone goes quiet. "I said, open up!"

Andrew opens the front door and – Tyler walks in. He's wearing, of all things, a cop uniform and a pair of mirrored shades. A bunch of the guys start grinning, but Malcolm looks as confused as Dougie feels. 

"Um," Dougie says. 

"It ain't a party without Segs doing his little party trick," Marchy says, grinning, and that's when Tyler pulls out a boombox. 

"What," says Dougie.

Tyler tosses his hat at Looch, flicks his shades at Andrew and then _rips off his pants_ and Dougie doesn't know where to look anymore. Malcolm is staring in what looks like horrified fascination, and Marchy is grinning, pulling out his wallet and digging out a small pile of ones. 

"Does he do this _often_?" Dougie demands of the room at large. 

Big Z is the one to answer, looking sympathetic. "You'll get used to it."

 

"Hey, honey," his mom says when he manages to dig his buzzing phone out of his back pocket. "How's your first year of university going?"

"Um," Dougie says. He looks out over the common room of the Bruins house. Tyler is passed out in his underwear with the phone number of Tyler B. scrawled across his chest – the other frats and sororities had started turning up around half an hour after the keg had been tapped, apparently drawn to the smell of beer like moths to the flame – and Marchy has his head pillowed on Tyler's thigh. Big Z had, very sensibly, gone up to bed a little after midnight, but his vacated chair had been taken by Looch and his girlfriend. Everyone else was scattered over the couches and floor, looking much the worse for wear. 

"It's going good, Ma," he says, and he smiles.


End file.
